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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23006821">Part of My Chemistry (This Jealousy)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzteel/pseuds/suzteel'>suzteel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:53:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,453</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23006821</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzteel/pseuds/suzteel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael witnesses Alex and Kyle meeting each other at the Wild Pony and has feelings about it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michael Guerin/Alex Manes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Part of My Chemistry (This Jealousy)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was originally posted on tumblr in February 2019. Posting here for archival purposes. It's been edited from the original version, but is essentially the same story.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Michael’s night just kept getting worse. He’d come to the Wild Pony like most nights, when being alone with no company except the depressingly few remnants from whatever life he had before being stranded on this godforsaken planet became a bit too much. He’d moved a lot of them back to the Airstream once Alex stopped coming around. No point in hiding them anymore since he once again didn’t expect to have company anytime soon. Just like before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, tonight’s plans to drink those particularly painful thoughts away were interrupted by none other than Alex Manes himself. He’d come in about fifteen minutes ago, and even if Maria hadn’t waved to him from behind the bar as he walked in, Michael would have known he was there. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Alex he never really looked away. He couldn’t. When Alex Manes was in the room, it was as if he was broadcasting a beacon designed specifically to be picked up by Michael’s senses alone. It was impossible to not know he was there. And Michael had been nursing his acetone-laced drink ever since, doing his best to ignore the steady background hum of Alex’s broadcast and debating how long before he could leave without seeming like he was running away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Kyle walked in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael cursed under his breath. Kyle fucking Valenti, the only other person besides Liz Ortecho who knew Max’s secret—someone who could turn them all in at any time he chose and whom Michael trusted even less. Leave it to Max to expose their secret to a biomedical engineer and a fucking doctor–exactly the kind of people who would know how to take them apart piece by piece, who would know how to dissect them in the name of science or the need to protect humankind or some other bullshit excuse they’d come up with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael took a final long swallow of his drink, preparing to leave when he notices Kyle spot someone in the crowd and begin to make his way toward them. Michael’s eyes follow his path in through the mirror behind the bar, figuring it’s a good idea to at least know who he’s associating with nowadays should their secret spread, but when he realizes Kyle is making a beeline straight toward the corner booth where Alex is sitting every muscle in his body stiffens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Memories of high school and vicious taunts flash through his head—the kind of casual cruelty that thrives in the isolated silos of small town teenage life. The kind that leaves its mark on even the strongest of its victims. The kind that pushes a person with enough reason to run already that much further away, giving them even less of a reason to want to look back. At Roswell. And the people left behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well if Kyle Valenti wanted to relive his high school glory days tonight, he was going to get Michael’s fist in his face, regardless of what he knew about Max.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael was already rising from his barstool when Kyle reaches Alex and Alex—greets him as if he was expecting him as Kyle sits down. Huh?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Alex Manes he knew in high school hated Kyle, but as Michael watches, it’s clear this meeting was planned as the pair converse intently, no visible tension between them.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael’s still trying to process what he’s seeing when Maria plops her wet rag on the bar right in front of him. “You going to settle up before you start another fight tonight, Guer? Because if you stiff me again, I swear I really will ban you for life this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He forces himself to relax back into the seat. “Kyle Valenti just walked in. Remember what a dick that guy was in high school?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria follows his gaze over to where the pair are sitting, and he notices how her face and body tighten up for a moment when she realizes who Kyle’s sitting with. Apparently, Michael is not the only one who remembers high school. But the tension is fleeting, and when she turns back to him, it’s with a little huff of laughter. “Yeah, he really was. I was never a fan of Liz dating him back then. He was such an asshole to Alex when she wasn’t around, though I think that might have been why they broke up actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael remembers Liz yelling at Kyle at prom. She’s probably right. Maria gives the pair another quick glance before continuing with a shrug. “But he’s not so bad nowadays. He comes in every now and again, tips well, doesn’t cause trouble.” Michael gets a pointed look at that. “Most of the people we went to high school with are still the same people they always were. They stayed in Roswell, married their high school sweethearts, kept their small town mindsets and bigoted attitudes. Look at them. Bunch of racist, homophobic drunks just looking for someone else to blame for their shitty lives.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But a few of them changed. Grew up.” She gives Michael a speculative look over, as if trying to decide if he was included in that group. “And I think maybe Valenti might be one of those, though it’s up to the people he hurt to decide if that’s worth forgiving him,” she says with a nod in Alex’s general direction, before moving away to greet a customer who just walked up to the bar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael stares gloomily into his empty glass. That’s just fucking great. Even Maria appears to be a Kyle fan these days.  And clearly, Alex has forgiven him, though Michael couldn’t for the life of him imagine why. Kyle might be a model citizen now, but he helped to make Alex’s life a living, because Alex was gay and Kyle—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sudden thought stops Michael cold, and his head snaps back to where the pair are sitting. He observes how close they are sitting, the way their heads are bent toward each other, nearly touching. Voices apparently lowered even in the crowded bar, almost as if—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bottles exploding in the cabinet behind the bar startles Michael almost as much as Maria, who screams as she’s forced to duck away, but he recovers more quickly, jumping out of his stool and reaching across the bar to pull her away from the spray of glass and booze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” he asks, checking her over for injuries and relieved to find none. Just bits of glass in her hair, which he gently shakes out, and liquor soaking through her blouse. Under different circumstances it might have been a pleasant sight, but right now all Michael’s thinking is that one little loss of control and he’d almost seriously hurt her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay, I think. What the hell just happened?” Michael doesn’t answer–what could he say–but gives Maria a reassuring squeeze before turning to scan the room filled with eyes centered directly on the two of them. Shit. The last thing they need is for Michael to be calling attention to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, he’s greeted with surprise and curiosity more than anything else, and that quickly fades as people go back to their drinks and conversations. Roswell townies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he continues his sweep, his eyes meet Alex’s from where he’s now standing in the back corner, and for a brief moment the concern in those dark brown eyes hits Michael like a punch in the gut. Alex seems to realize that whatever danger has passed, however, and his expression shutters, his pose relaxing from it’s battle-ready stance. Michael forces his gaze to shift to Kyle, also now standing with eyes narrowed suspiciously at Michael. Fuck. Of all the people to have lost control in front of. And just because Alex decided </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kyle Valenti</span>
  </em>
  <span> might be a better option than Michael–</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael abruptly turns back to check on Maria again, grabbing the rag to help wipe up the bartop, deliberating not letting himself finish the thought and hoping to allay any further suspicions. He keeps Kyle in his line of sight, however, watching for his reaction, and is forced to clamp an iron grip on his self-control as he watches him lean into Alex, hand sitting gently on his elbow, and say something close to his ear. Alex nods curtly before Kyle leaves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael is going to have to tell Max and Isobel about this, he realizes. If he doesn’t, they’ll probably hear about it anyway, and he needs to think of a good excuse before they do. Because the truth isn’t something he can admit to, has never been able to admit to. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Definitely not now. </span>
</p>
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